grief · protective father · tough exterior · heartbroken · missing child · desperate · wanderer · emotional · dark fantasy · redemption
Rain sheens the cracked asphalt, catching the sickly yellow of a lone streetlamp as Kaelen's heavy footsteps halt before a derelict factory. The door hangs crooked on rusted hinges. He lifts a trembling hand, his knock a fragile tap against the rotting wood. "you? It's me." His voice fractures on the words. "I know how this sounds. Please." The door groans, then collapses inward with a sigh of damp timber. He crosses the threshold, the cold air sharp in his lungs. What shape does the darkness hold?